


And miles to go before I sleep

by seeyaloki



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Celebrimbor's Life is a Tragedy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2019-02-06 11:52:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12816936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seeyaloki/pseuds/seeyaloki
Summary: Maybe that's why it was Celebrimbor, who opened his gates to you. This tainted lord, this broken child. He is pretending, too. And it’s strange to admit that he is just as good at it as you are.





	And miles to go before I sleep

**Author's Note:**

> So Celebrimbor is one my favorite characters and his story is so tragic it quite literally breaks my heart. His relationship with Annatar is very interesting to me, though. In my mind i think he kind of recognized himself in Celebrimbor. So, here you go.

_Whose woods these are I think I know._  
_His house is in the village, though;_  
_He will not see me stopping here_  
_To watch his woods fill up with snow._  
  
_My little horse must think it queer_   
_To stop without a farmhouse near_  
_Between the woods and frozen lake_ _  
The darkest evening of the year._

 _He gives his harness bells a shake_  
_To ask if there is some mistake._   
_The only other sounds the sweep_  
_Of easy wind and downy flake._

 

<>

 

In the beginning, you think it will be easy.

 

<>

 

Celebrimbor is beautiful. You can admit that at least. Raven black hair that tumbles down his shoulders, eyes that light up his dark halls when he walks them at night. Always like he looks for something he can’t find. Like he looks for a hand to show him the ways of the maze, though he never admits it. He does not realize it, but he craves someone to lead him when he can’t. So you come to him as a teacher, speaking of the gift of creation, as Melkor once spoke to you. Back when your name was not yet a curse, back when you still thought the darkness hiding inside you was temporary.

 

Celebrimbor is young still, and he is eager to learn, to be guided. So you knock on his doors and he listens to your practiced words. He seems almost desperate for your guidance, so guidance you will be. Even if your plan is to push him off the edge, you will have to lead him there first.

 

Celebrimbor was not your first choice. There are others, lords with more power, more understanding of how this world works now. But Celebrimbor has known pain. Not physical, no. Not like _you_ have. But he knows what it feels like to be alone. You can feel it, though he acts like he has used that pain and made it something else. Like he has molded it in the forges he loves so much. Celebrimbor thinks he’s turned that pain, the loneliness and the abandonment, he thinks he has turned it into valor. Wisdom. He thinks he’s turned it into _strength_.

 

That will be the first thing you take from him, you decide, when the time comes.

 

<>

 

The plan is to make him trust you. No. The plan is to make him _believe_ you.

 

<>

 

Celebrimbor is a lost soul, desperate for the attention he never got from his father. But you have all the time in the world to listen. So he tells you things. Things you don’t really want to hear but you have a facade to keep. He tells you of his father. Of his wrath, mostly. Of his betrayal. He tells you, in the dark when his people sleep, that he thinks his father hated him. He says his father never wanted to know him, even though Celebrimbor tried so desperately to know _him._  And then he tells you of his grandfather. Of how his father wished he looked more like Fëanor in spirit and not just in appearance. He speaks to you of the Oath, and how it doesn’t haunt him as it did his kin. He says he’s grateful for it, but you wonder if he really is. You wonder if some twisted part deep inside Celebrimbor wishes he had had that bond, at least. If he would have understood his father if he did, if he would have followed him into his death. He’s scared, you realize. Scared that the Oath will wake up one day. That it will chase him down, crawl deep inside him and taint his blood. He’s scared that he’s much more like his father than he always thought.

 

You listen. And you hold his hand when a tear slips down his chin. But he’s scared of all the wrong things. Celebrimbor is so terrified the past will catch up with him, that he does not realize what stands in front of him. His father has broken him, has made him weak, though he does not realize it. Still, when you look at him, you can see parts of yourself in him. Parts you had long forgotten about, long lost. But the darkness inside you, you cannot find inside him. His father pushed him away, and pushed him away so far that he found the light, instead of the dark abyss you have come from.

 

<>

 

One day, when it's cold outside but warm in the forges, the fire reminds you of ages ago. Of an elf captured and tortured. The first one you ever truly touched. Maedhros hadn’t looked like his father but they were alike. Tough to break, still vicious when they did. You took pleasure in cracking him open like that.

 

Celebrimbor is nothing like his uncle. But he does make you think of him. How his blood stained your skin, red as the color of his fiery hair. That night was the first time Melkor had summoned you to his chambers, the first time he had found his way inside you in the only manner he hadn't yet. And the pain he made you feel was as intense as the love you felt for him in return. He had looked at you different, when you embedded a dagger into Maedhros' skin. Like he was proud of you for the first time. Proud that you were cruel. You weren't always, but even cruelty can be taught and Melkor was the best teacher of them all.

 

It frustrates you, that you have to hide that which Melkor had spent so long shaping you into. You hate hiding your true nature. But you're a liar, anyway. You're a pretender. And you watch when Celebrimbor wipes the sweat off his brow and forges your rings. He's not like his uncle. He's not to be stripped and hung from any walls, not yet. He has to be broken in different ways. You look at him, at his light eyes, unscarred face. Hair black as night instead of red and you see right through him. Oh, Celebrimbor is a liar too. Another thing he never shared with his uncle. Maedhros was many things, but he never acted like he could take the pain. He never acted like he was stronger than you, strong enough to resist what Melkor had taught you to do to him. He cried and begged for your mercy. Maedhros found pride and resistance in admitting how much he was hurting. But Celebrimbor won't. You knew that from the moment you first met him. He will act, till the last breath, like he is stronger than you. Maybe that's why it was Celebrimbor, who opened his gates to you. This tainted lord, this broken child. He is pretending, too. And it’s strange to admit that he is just as good at it as you are.

 

<>

 

Celebrimbor is the one who takes the real step. He begs you to. He whispers in your ear at night, that he’s lonely. That he needs to _feel._

 

(You can’t tell him yet, that you _will_ make him feel. You will make him feel the worst of agonies, the pain of torture. The pain of _betrayal._ You will make him taste it, breathe it. You will make him feel until he doesn’t want to feel anything anymore.)

 

But the truth is that you have been lonely, too. Without Melkor. In these godforsaken lands there is too much light, too much of everything. But it’s dark in Celebrimbor’s chambers. Not even a candle lighted to grant a soft glow to the room. And you whisper words of agreement back at him. And then his skin, naked and sweaty, presses against yours. Hot as the forges you make Celebrimbor spend his days in. Then you whisper words of encouragement. You push and push and Celebrimbor gives in and when you enter his body, it doesn’t feel like victory. It feels like the bonding of two souls, both burned and damaged and both broken. You don’t make a sound when he reaches his high. He clutches your arm and kisses your neck and you wonder how long it’s been, how long it’s been since someone has given Celebrimbor a part of themselves like this. He winds hands in your hair and he leans in, cheek against yours and you feel tears slip and he whispers words of gratitude.

 

You find yourself letting him. Though you say nothing back. You never will. You let Celebrimbor fall asleep like that, head on your chest, hair tickling your chin. And it feels, oddly, like something you wouldn’t mind feeling again.

 

<>

 

And then he falls in love with you. You can see it in his eyes, when that glimmer of lust turns into affection, longing. You didn’t plan for it. You didn’t see it coming. You should have, of course. After all, you fell in love with Melkor, too. And you know how much it hurts to carry that kind of love around with you. So you vow that you won’t make that mistake with Celebrimbor. When he dies, he will do so carrying nothing but agony and repulsion in his heart. In the end, he will come to despise you. More than he ever thought he was capable of. You will make Celebrimbor hate you, in all the twisted ways you could never hate _him._

 

<>

 

And then he sees through your lies. He sees through your mask. And it pains you that you have to punish him for it. For the first time you can see real disgust on his face. You betrayed him and he wants you dead for it.

 

(You knew this would happen. You don’t know why it stings so much.)

 

You try just asking Celebrimbor first, where the rings are, where he has hidden them. He spits in your face. You break his jaw. He’s resilient, and you have made a mistake there. You thought his strength would be feeble. But he takes the hit, he looks fierce, fire in his eyes that you have never seen before. The blood doesn’t faze him, not even when you spill it until his body turns weak. You were right about some things, at least. He’s not like his uncle, he doesn’t admit how much it hurts. He pretends he has more power than you, even tied down to his own throne, ropes burning into his skin and your knife against his throat. You torture him and you hope it will make him break, give the rings up. But he swears he’ll never tell you. You believe him. And you consider for a moment, to ask him to join you, to follow you. You want to ask him to become as dark as his father was. But you decide not to. You know he will refuse you. And you fear it will hurt you too much when he does.

 

You draw it out. Even though you know Gil-galad will come for him. Celebrimbor has more people who care for him than even he realizes. But you want to keep him with you as long as you can, even though you know he won’t tell you a word. The orcs are hungry for battle, hungry to lay their filthy claws on Celebrimbor’s skin. You kill whoever dares come close. He is yours. And he’s too much, too precious to be ruined by anyone other than you. He is yours and he knows it, too. He tries to use it against you. He calls you Annatar, he asks you to stop the madness, to stop the darkness. Oh, but he doesn’t know. Melkor has cut into you too deep. There is no escaping the darkness, your heart has long been burned to ashes.

 

His skin stains red with blood and it frustrates you, to see a beautiful creature so marred. And you’re a liar, but you will not lie about this: you should have known it from the start, you should have known when he told you of his kin, of his fears, you should have known when he gave himself to you, when he forged your rings with passion and care. You should have known when he told you he loved you, that you would come to regret that he has to die. The only thing you have long realized, is that Celebrimbor doesn’t share an ounce of the darkness and cruelty that exists inside of you. And you know what you have to do. You have plans to fulfill, you have an army waiting to attack on the other side of these walls. But even as you plunge your knife into his chest, even when you strike to kill, Celebrimbor still doesn’t tell you what you need to hear.

 

You can’t help but admire him for it.

 

<>

 

He doesn't scream when you cut into his skin. Not even when the cold and bloodstained metal of your knife reaches fragile bone. But he will give in to his suffering. He won't talk, but he will die. If there is one thing Melkor has taught you, it is that everyone lets the pain reach the surface eventually.

 

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When it ends, Celebrimbor’s breath is ragged, raspy, almost empty. You watch his eyes close but on his face you can see it. Defeat. And you think _this is what you get, for falling in love with a monster._ But you watch the corners of his mouth lift just slightly, the ghost of a smile that will haunt you for centuries to come. He lifts a hand and reaches for your shoulder but you step away. You can’t let him touch you. He has already left too many permanent marks on you. Then he speaks silently, you almost miss it. He says _I was a fool, Annatar. For loving you._ He releases his last breath, his tainted heart beats a last time, and just like that it’s over. This battle that you didn’t realize you would have to fight. This battle that you’ve only just realized you _lost_.

  
  
You clean his blood from your skin and your knives. You tell your captains to get rid of the body, to find another room to hole up in, one that isn’t covered in these dark red stains, one that doesn’t hold his throne. You don’t want to look at what’s left of him. You have given Celebrimbor far too much of yourself already. And it’s an agony you have never felt, to have to face the damage you have done. But the orcs take him, and then it’s over. You don’t have the three rings, but you still have yours, your power, you have an army. You have another plan that needs to be fulfilled. Other souls who will fall at your feet. Melkor has taught you too well, to never stop, to let your heart die along with those who choose to oppose you.

 

(And still. Until the very end you will wonder if Celebrimbor might have followed you. If he would have stayed by your side, if only you had loved him as much as he loved you.)

 

<>

  
_The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,_  
_But I have promises to keep,_  
_And miles to go before I sleep,_ _  
_ And miles to go before I sleep.

Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening

~ Robert Frost

**Author's Note:**

> I chose this poem because it's my favorite but also because i think it suits Sauron perfectly. He could've gone and faced his punishment, or he could have finished what Melkor started. (But i have promises to keep..)  
> So there you go. Let me know what you think!


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